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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028986">My boy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soft_boy_hours/pseuds/Soft_boy_hours'>Soft_boy_hours</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dad time dad time [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Blood and Injury, Fist Fights, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Parent Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Is he a good dad? That's debatable, Jschlatt is Toby Smith | Tubbo's Parent, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Mild Blood, Not Beta Read, Not with him and Tubbo, Self-Indulgent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:47:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soft_boy_hours/pseuds/Soft_boy_hours</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"If someone ever puts their hands on you agian, don't pull your fucking punches" Tubbo gives a look of mock innocence "Don't give me that look becuse I know you did. I dont care if you love them more then the sun. Send that son-of-a-bitch to the hospital." </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jschlatt &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dad time dad time [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203998</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>138</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Do you ever write something and think "is isnt me writting anymore this is the _______ issues?" Because same</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"What did you do this time?" Schlatt asks, crossing his arms over his chest obviously annoyed. It wasn't even noon yet and he was already getting called up to the front office of the boys school...Something to do with a suspension, he didn't pay all that attention to the call. </p><p>"I got in a fight..." Tubbo admits with a sheepish smile, his head is tilted back as to not drip blood all over himself. Theres a large bruise forming  on the boy's neck and his eye is a painful shade of red. God knows how bad it is under his shirt. </p><p>"Did you start it? " Schlatt questions, uncrossing his arms and instead moving to sit next to the teen. He understood that the pair would need to leave soon but wanted to get a few questions answered just incase he had to and have a 'talk' with a teacher. </p><p>Tubbo shakes his head, tears prick his eyes at the pain it caused so he quickly stops doing that. "No..I didn't." </p><p>"Did you win then?" Schlatt asks and he couldn't even contain that little shred of hopefulness that seeps out into his voice. </p><p>"Of course." The 16-year-old responds with a smile, not bothering to move his head all that much but did look at his father.</p><p>"That's my boy. Here let's get you home." He stands up and reaches a hand out for Tubbo, who reluctantly grabs it and slowly pulls himself out of the chair, his legs wobbling and tears prick his eyes. "Fuck, if your this bad I dont wanna see the other guy " </p>
<hr/><p>The car ride home is uneventful, the music from the radio is playing some cheesy pop song from the early two thousands.  It is Thursday after all.  The sky is a dark blue from setting and the clouds frame the setting sun. </p><p>Tubbo sits silently in the passenger side, his seatbelt isnt on mostly because it hurt to much. His ribs are most likely bruised but he doesn't want to have to sit in the hospital of an hour and speak to police about this. </p><p>He's glad Tommy isn't pressing charges. </p><p>Schlatt gently drums on the wheel to the song, even muttering along to the lyrics. He doesn't say anything until they pull into the driveway and turn off the car. "So two weeks huh?" </p><p>"Yeah...Could've gotten expelled." Tubbo whispers and gets out of the car, already getting used to the ache in his knees. "Got threatened with jail time...Tommy wouldn't do it though."</p><p>"I'm glad you didn't...Don't think I will be able to handle you for the time you have." His father jokes and gets out of the car,  walking over to the passenger's side and helps Tubbo walk. </p><p>"Aw you love me!" </p><p>"I'm not proud of it." </p><p>"You're so mean to  me papa, I swear."</p><p>The pair get inside after a few minutes, Tubbo almost immediately collapsing on his bed the second hes finally in his room. His eye is starting to form a nasty bruise and his neck seemed to only get worse, the blood from his nose long since dried. </p><p>"Take off your shirt, and pants so I can see how fucked up you got...Seeing as you're walking I doubt its life threatening."</p><p>Tubbo gives a wine of protest but does as he's told, his torso his littered with angry red markings, more prominent where his sides and ribs are. His knees have a thin layer of blood on them that is starting to flake to reveal the broken skin there. "Hurts like hell." </p><p>"Yeah, I bet, I'll go get you an ice pack or something...Maybe multiple i don't know, just change into something comfortable. "</p>
<hr/><p>Tubbo winces as a wrapped packet of peas is gently pressed to his left eye. It was obvious that the family didn't own ice packs. There hadn't ever been a need for them before this occasion. </p><p>"Keep that there, I'll try and find something better. See if we have a non sharp object." Schlatt states as he sits next to Tubbo on the bed, making no real effort to move away. "Do you wanna talk about it?" </p><p>"Thought he was my friend." Tubbo whispers looking up at the glow in the dark stars that litter ceiling. They aren't glowing anymore, haven't for years now, but tubbo never had the heart to take them down...Maybe he should now. </p><p>"Let me give you advice kid" He shifts to look over at Tubbo with a slight and tired smile "Sometimes some friendships don't last. Sometimes they fade out, hell all my friends from collage don't even remember my name." </p><p>"Is there a happy ending to this piece of advice?" Tubbo interjects, "or is this a 'nothing will go right' advice corner"</p><p>"No." Schlatt admits and leans on his hands, "it's more of a: The sooner you figure this out the less hurt in life you'll be. But I want you to get one thing through your thick skull."</p><p>"Hm?" Tubbo looks over at the elder. </p><p>"If someone ever puts their hands on you agian, don't pull your fucking punches" Tubbo gives a look of mock innocence "Don't give me that look becuse I know you did. I dont care if you love them more then the sun. Send that son-of-a-bitch to the hospital</p><p>"Thats...illegal?" Tubbo says it like a questions, trying to figure out if his dad is joking but given the tone it was clear that he wasn't.  </p><p>"Does it look like care?" It's a rhetorical question so Tubbo doesn't even bother to say anything. He's in to much pain to speak anyways, every intake of air feels like his chest is funny collapsing under itself.  "You...take a rest, what you want for dinner?"</p><p>"Soup?"</p><p>"Yeah we can have soup...I'll wake you up later when it's done, I just have to heat up leftovers. Sleep well, love you" He stands up and walks out the room, closing the door behind him. </p><p>"Love you." Tubbo whispers softly, not taking his eyes off of the ceiling. </p>
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